


Musings of the Dying

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, DnDstuck, Everyone that isn't Dualscar is a mention, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/





	Musings of the Dying

You’re going to die here, you’re going to die in this gods forsaken ruin. You’re going to die here because you have outlived your usefulness, as a Warlock of the Emissary, the All-Mother herself, you would be protected from the magics of these crazed clown cultists if you were still worth something. You can’t help but feel the smallest bit betrayed, you had known your “Goddess” to be fickle, but you thought being her Champion was enough to warrant her continued protection. 

Well, there goes 30 years of service, you can only hope you still get a peaceful afterlife after the atrocities you have committed in her name. The families you’ve torn apart, the great and grand creatures slain just to sate her for a little while longer, the countries you’ve fed to her just so the Old Ones wouldn’t haunt the dreams of you and your coven anymore. 

Speaking of your Coven, you hope your so-called wife mourns for you, even as a symbolic gesture. But since she’s the priestess of the All-Mother herself, you think she knew about this and sent you on your quest so this could all come to pass. She was a pretty one though, the only other of your Triton race in your coven was her. Her fins and gills had a slight pinkish tinge to them, your own was violet, these signified your royal bloodlines, in another life you two may have been married for real, for political clout, or maybe even love, instead of being done as a ritual to produce the perfect heir. 

Oh, your poor heir, your son will likely never know that his father died being hunted like the great beasts he hunted himself, he will never know that he’s being used like a tool, and that he could be tossed away at any time. Of course, that’s assuming it is a boy, if it’s a female, she will be safe, she will become the new Grand Priestess, she may not learn of your death or it’s cause for a while, but she will learn eventually. 

Then there’s your poor mistresses that you left behind, not from the Coven of course, the first was a human and a swashbuckling pain in your ass, she always appeared when you had slain the grand monstrosities or plundered treasures from the nations you destroyed. Like a spider who tries to claim the kill of another. While at first, she competed with you to slay the biggest creatures or plunder the most loot, it moved into a competition of different sorts, one that took place in more intimate settings, like your bed rooms, the back of taverns, in an alley a few times… Hopefully she will find a way to retrieve your crosshair’s, she always liked ‘em.

The other was so different from the first, she was delicate and beautiful, a poor widow who had been forced to become a tailor since her husband and son both died in some far off war. She was a half-elf, her elf side was one of the higher elves, that could explain how she seemed so exotic, so wondrous, so fey like. She seemed to always be glowing, metaphorically and physically, even through her mourning. She had become a close confidant to you, and you to her. With her, intimacy was never about pleasure, but about the emotional connection it gave you two, the feeling of long lost love for her, and the feeling of an emotionally fulfilling love life for you. She helped you emotionally and spiritually, and you can only hope you did the same. You never told her the full truth, but you did not lie without pain, there was always a well of guilt whenever you told her the half-truths. She deserved to know everything, and now she never will. This hurts you the most. 

 

You cannot finish the musings of your mind, you may be dying but you are still alert, and you can hear them. The cultists are close, you finish writing your note, placing it in your bag then you leave the bag in your hiding spot. Hopefully it’s not too out of the way so that when your Coven come to investigate your disappearance, they might find it. You grab you crosshair’s, standing and running out of cover as you fire three bolts of eldritch energy at your pursuers. Two of them crumple like dolls without strings. But the last one, the biggest one, stands there as your bolt just spreads out around him harmlessly. His eye glowing every color of the rainbow and even some you don’t think exist in this plane. Were you at full health, with the blessing of your Goddess and all of your spells, you would be a challenge. But as you are, you have only a few spells left and your Goddess has abandoned you. Holding up your weapon is becoming hard, blood is starting to spill from your ears and eyes, you can feel his power in your mind, the immense pressure and agony that accompanies it, the wounds inflicted earlier on your chest and legs have opened up again and finally your legs are close to buckling and giving out, you do not have much time but you will not die like a coward. With the last breath you can trap the bastard forever, and you do so, uttering your magical words, the diamond tip of your crosshair’s glows a bright white as the leader is slowly and magically shrunken and absorbed into the tip. But not before he can finish you off with a quick psionic ability. Your body falls, broken and bloody, all but lifeless with nothing but a small smirk adorning your face as your spirit ascends towards the River Styx.


End file.
